


Photographs

by ChickiTendies



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, How Do I Tag, Photographs, past death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 12:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20639453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickiTendies/pseuds/ChickiTendies
Summary: Why did he only feel sorrow now? Why were those memories just now coming back?Why does he feel like he lost the most important person in the world...?





	Photographs

**Author's Note:**

> yEET  
so i am running on 8 minutes of sleep so sorry if this is trash  
its better towards the ending i swear

_They were fourteen years old. Two years after they thought they’d killed that bastard clown. _

_They were on the swings in Bill’s backyard. Bill was pushing Stan on a swing, chatting idly. Everytime Stanley would turn around to look at Bill, if he’d said something funny or odd, or whenever Stanley laughed, Bill would feel butterflies in his stomach._  
_He never wanted this to end._  
_But what if Stan eventually figured out he was ...He was a queer?  
_ _Would he hate him?_

_He’d spun the swing around so it was facing him, face flushing at how close they were._  
_“St-Stan? Promise me we’ll st-stay friends. Ple-please promise me you won’t leave me, for any-anything.”_  
_Stanley had looked a bit taken aback, he giggled and shook his head a bit._  
_“Hey, I’m never going anywhere. Not for anything. I will always be your friend, up until we die.”_  
_Then Stanley gave him a grin that stopped his heart.  
_ _He really was in love with his best friend_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was one week after they had defeated it. He was gone for good. 

In that week, Bill found himself remembering more and more. 

Specifically,  
more about one boy. 

Warm brown eyes that he never failed to find comfort in.  
Fluffy golden curls that he often found himself wishing he could run his hands through.  
A friend. The boy he could confide in. The boy he trusted and the boy that would take care of him.  
The boy who was the first person he spoke to after he lost his brother.  
The boy who made his heart melt.  
The boy who would ramble to him when he was having a bad day, because it always made him feel better. 

The boy who he was lost without. 

The boy who his heart ached knowing that he could never see again. 

The boy who he, no matter how hard he denied it, someone he wanted to hold and kiss do all that mushy stuff with. 

The boy he wanted- No, needed back 

Bill leaned against the wall and slid down, a broken and hopeless expression on his face.  
How had he not remembered all of this earlier?  
The only hint before all these memories was the fact that every time Stanley was mentioned, he’d feel a pang in his heart. He’d assumed it was just because they were friends, but ...It was more. Every time he heard a mention or saw a photo of that boy he wanted nothing more than to drag him back down to earth, hold him and love him. 

He choked out a sob, clasping a hand over his mouth, saying his name repeatedly.  
He felt lost, heartbroken, and pathetic. The boy he’d loved since they were in third grade ...He was gone. The boy who tried (and failed) to teach him different birds was gone, the boy who gave the best hugs in the whole world…..Gone. 

_Stanley was gone._

He pulled out his wallet, where he moved some of his old photos to. There was a photo strip, just pictures of him and Stanley, when they’d saved up their birthday money to go to the mall. 

_Their parents had dropped them off and they’d went in almost every store, causing chaos._

_The picture was from the photo booth at the mall, they were all really weird goofy pictures, seeing as they were thirteen at the time. But one picture was different. They had been laughing too hard to think of anything funny, but when it took the picture, Stan had leaned over and kissed him on the fucking cheek. Stan said it was just for shits and giggles, but Bill had kept it in his wallet, just because...It was nice to pretend that Stanley Literal Angel Uris liked him._

But now, he was dead. 

He let out a pathetic sob, leaning and opening a nearby drawer. He pulls out the letter that Stanley wrote to the losers, holding it close to his chest.  
“Y-you said...that we’d always be fri-friends...And…” He sniffled. “And that you weren’t go-oing anyw-where….Not for anythi-ing...Why’d you l...Why’d you ha-have to lie t’me...” His voice cracked, the words coming out as broken, shaky, and pitiful. Bill gently took the letter out of the envelope, reading over it repeatedly, whispering a soft ‘Why’ into the air. 

As he went to put the letter back into the envelope, he spotted something inside it. A single index card. _How did I miss that?_  
He pulled it out, reading the message on the front. 

_Hello, Bill. I decided I needed to do this._  
_Years and years ago, I made you a promise. That I wasn’t going anywhere._  
_That we’d always be friends. I’m sorry for breaking it._  
_Even after my life, I’ll stick by you until we can see each other again._  
_Even after all these years_  
_Your smiles gives me butterflies when I think about it_  
_I love you  
_ _\- Stan, the man._

_Ps, flip the index card over_

Bill sat in shock, tears pouring down his face. He silently turned the card over, to see two polaroid pictures taped to it. He ran his fingers over the images.  
The first picture, was one that Richie had taken at their last sleepover. Right before they all went off to college. Bill and Stanley had been sharing an air mattress, and ended up, somehow, spooning in their sleep. Waking up was embarrassing, but it never made things awkward with them. The next one was just one of Stanley, the date marking only a month before he took his own life. He was...As perfect as ever.  
He wiped the hot tears off his face. The last time he’d felt a pain this strong was when he lost Georgie. And even then he had Stanley with him, someone to hold and comfort him and tell him that it wasn’t his fault.  
He picked up the all pictures again with trembling fingers, memories flooding through.  
He held up the most recent picture, the one where Stan is an adult. Before...Y’know. 

He pressed the photo to his lips, murmuring softly.  
“I won’t forget you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos really fuel my soul y'know
> 
> Tumblr: Albertdoesnteatglass
> 
> (i need friends and asks)


End file.
